


Horizon

by togekissies



Series: Fairytale AU [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Established Relationship, M/M, Modern Fantasy, Sickfic, minor yahaba/ennoshita
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 11:43:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15948671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/togekissies/pseuds/togekissies
Summary: Shirabu gets a cold.Normally that wouldn't be a big deal, but Shirabu is a seer. A seer with little to no control over his visions. When he's sick his visions spiral out of control, and things can get... a little messy.





	Horizon

**Author's Note:**

> i started this fic last november, so here we are again with me finishing a wip that was rotting in my files for ages
> 
> so while this fic takes place in the larger fairy tale au, it's more directly a bit of a sequel to [flight patterns](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6051451)... which you shouldn't have to read in order to understand this. which is fine, because whenever i think about flight patterns all i wanna do is rewrite it. like the summary says, shirabu is a seer. semi is a tennin, and we've pretty much made up the rules for tennin in this 'verse out of whole cloth. like, he technically _isn't_ one of the original japanese tennin, he's a swan maiden. it's just that swan maidens and tennin are so similar (and have interbred) that in japan, tennin is the blanket term.
> 
> i had fun with this fic. hope you enjoy it!

Semi isn’t at their usual meeting place and it puts Kenjiro in a foul mood. It’s too cold to wait outside for long, and Kenjiro is tired. He wants to go back to their warm apartment and take a long, hot bath. He crosses his arms and scowls across the street, at the people shopping for presents and all the twinkling Christmas decorations.

Kenjiro has been meeting Semi after his shift ends for a few weeks now. There’s no real reason for it, other than Kenjiro doesn’t have a traditional job eating up his time, and he ends up leaving his best friend’s apartment around the same time anyway. And this way he’s around whenever some rando decides they’re in love with Semi. Curse Semi’s stupid tennin charm and his utter inability to control it.

There’s an odd pressure building behind Kenjiro’s eyes when Semi finally arrives. He’s holding two to-go coffee cups, and holds one out to Kenjiro.

“You’re late,” Kenjiro says, annoyed. He stares at the cup Semi’s offering him.

“No, you’re early. And don’t worry, it’s just hot chocolate.”

Good. Kenjiro can’t have coffee, it makes his visions too intense and upsetting. He grabs the cup and takes a sip. It’s a dark chocolate, only slightly sweet, and so hot it burns his tongue. But the heat feels good on his throat, so he takes another drink.

Semi can’t keep the happiness out of his face. He’s always trying to find small things to get for Kenjiro, and he’s so pleased with himself when he picks something Kenjiro likes. Kenjiro thinks this one is obvious, though. Of course he’ll like a hot drink on a cold evening.

“How was your day?” Semi asks when they start walking. It’s a bit of a hike to their apartment from the shopping center Semi works at, but the company makes it go faster, Semi said once. It was embarrassing.

“Alright, I guess,” Kenjiro says, holding his hot chocolate close. “Akaashi was busy and didn’t show up. Shigeru slept the entire time, snored like a lawn mower. And Futakuchi was sick.”

“Sick?” Semi says, an eyebrow raised. “What was he doing out of his own place, then?”

“He’s an idiot. He was bored with his girlfriend at work, apparently. Bored and stupid.”

“I thought he said she wasn’t his girlfriend.”

“She is, he’s just too stupid to admit it.”

“He’s pretty stupid, huh,” Semi says, taking a sip of his coffee to hide his smile.

“Well, yes. I said that already.” Kenjiro watches the lights strung along the street lamps flicker in the night. “What about you? How’d work go?”

“You know, the usual. Someone else pretended to be a talent scout to get my number.”

Kenjiro snorts. “Have you ever considered one of them might be an actual scout? You could probably make good money modeling.”

“Oh? You think I’m pretty enough to be a model?”

Kenjiro’s cheeks heat up. “Shut up, you know what I mean.”

Semi grins. “Yeah, well. I wouldn’t want to. I already have enough trouble driving off weirdos, I wouldn’t want stalkers or anything.”

He says it lightly, but Kenjiro senses the gravitas behind his words. Even if nothing terrible results from Semi’s magic—it wears off after the affected person has been out of his presence for about half an hour—Kenjiro knows how stressful it can get. He has a feeling Semi would have moved to another town by now, if they hadn’t fallen in love.

“Does your magic work through pictures?” Kenjiro asks, genuinely curious.

Semi frowns, considering. “I have no idea. And if I’m being honest, I don’t care to find out.”

Kenjiro thinks that’s fair enough.

-

Kenjiro’s clumsy, frozen fingers struggle with the buttons of his coat. “Ugh,” he says. “I want a bath, Semi. I call the bathroom first.”

Semi looks at him strangely. He hasn’t had nearly as much trouble getting out of his coat and shoes. He pushes Kenjiro’s hands away and starts undoing his coat buttons. “I’ll draw it for you.”

“Huh? No, you worked today. Go relax.”

“I’ll do it cause I want to,” Semi says. He kisses Kenjiro’s cheek, then leaves him to figure out his shoes on his own.

Ten minutes later Kenjiro dumps the rest of his clothing unceremoniously on the bathroom floor. He sinks into the tub, hot water painful on his still-cold extremities, and sighs deeply. He’s determined to enjoy this. He doesn’t care if he’s in bed by nine. He’s tired and wants to relax so the pressure in his head goes away.

“Huh,” Semi says from the doorway. “Don’t you always complain that I’m the one who leaves my dirty laundry everywhere?”

Kenjiro glares at him. “The hell are you doing here?”

“You left the door open,” Semi says. Kenjiro could have sworn he closed it. “You feeling alright?”

“...My throat hurts,” he admits.

Semi nods, and closes the door when he leaves. A few minutes later he comes back and hands Kenjiro a mug of hot herbal tea. Kenjiro normally takes his tea unsweetened, but Semi’s put honey in it this time. He thinks he can taste some ginger, too.

“If Futakuchi got me sick,” Kenjiro says, “I’m going to kill him.”

“Noted,” Semi says, sitting down on the tile next to the tub. “I’m impressed. I thought you’d be in denial about getting sick.”

“I said _if_. I might not be sick. I could just be tired. It’s winter, the air’s dry, that could hurt my throat.”

Semi has his elbow propped on the rim of the tub, and rests his cheek against his fist. He’s grinning. “If you say so.”

Kenjiro starts to feel weird, sitting in a hot bath with a mug of hot tea clutched in his hands, while his fully clothed boyfriend sits next to the tub and chats with him. Shigeru would never believe it happened. He’d think Kenjiro came up with a strange euphemism for shower sex.

“Want to join me in here?” Kenjiro finds himself saying, which is strange. He didn’t intend to say it. He most certainly doesn’t _want_ to share the tub, either.

Semi snorts. “Yeah, you’re getting sick.” He stands, pausing only to ruffle Kenjiro’s hair. “Call me when you’re done with your tea, alright?” He then gathers up Kenjiro’s discarded clothing, and leaves the room.

Kenjiro sips his tea slowly, enjoying how it soothes his throat. He’s starting to overheat, but he doesn’t care. He isn’t quite ready to get out into the cold air.

-

Kenjiro doesn’t remember falling asleep, so when he wakes up in a dark room, legs tangled in sheets, he’s incredibly confused. The thing that woke him up was a noise—the sound of someone shuffling around the room, trying to be quiet.

Kenjiro rolls on his back the best he can, dragging one of his sleep-useless arms up to rub his eye. “Who...?”

“It’s just me.”  The bed dips, and then Semi appears above him. He touches Kenjiro’s face. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” Kenjiro says. His tongue doesn’t feel like it fits right in his mouth, his throat feels like sandpaper, and his head feels like someone replaced his brain with cotton. “Fucking terrible.”

“I think you’re running a fever,” Semi says, brushing back Kenjiro’s bangs. He stops touching Kenjiro long enough to crawl under the covers, and Kenjiro shuffles closer until Semi envelops him in his arms. Semi’s always been good at figuring out when Kenjiro needs a cuddle. “Go back to sleep,” Semi says softly. “Hopefully you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“What time is it?”

“Half past midnight,” Semi answers. It used to freak him out when Kenjiro demanded the time and date after waking up, but he’s gotten used to it. He understands now that Kenjiro just needs it to sort out which of the visions in his head are from the future or not. “It’s December 21st now.”

“You’re up too late.”

“You’re normally up this late with me. You went to bed early.”

Kenjiro burrows his face into Semi’s shirt. “If I’m really getting sick, Semi,” he says, “it’s going to get bad. It’s worse than when I have caffeine. I can’t tell past from present. Sometimes I’ll think I’m a future version of myself. I’ll say unnerving things.”

“It’s okay. I can deal with it.”

“You don’t understand. You don’t—just call Shigeru tomorrow, okay?” Kenjiro exhales. “Don’t be stubborn about this. It’s worse than you think. Shigeru will tell you what to do.”

Semi shifts, and Kenjiro can tell what he’s thinking. Why can’t Kenjiro just tell him what to do? Why does he think he’s not capable of figuring it out himself? And then Semi remembers how poorly he coped when they first got together and he learned all the intricate quirks of Kenjiro’s uncontrollable seer abilities, and sighs. “Alright,” he whispers. “I’ll call Yahaba.”

Hot tears prick at Kenjiro’s eyes. He hates everything that messes with his visions, but getting sick is the worst. It’s like all of his control has been stolen out from under him, and all he can do is sink deeper into a confusing mess of time, sometimes spanning centuries. He breathes deeply, lets Semi rub comforting circles on his back, and eventually is lulled back to sleep.

-

Shigeru doesn’t just tell Semi what to do. He shows up at their apartment with a bag of supplies, and a sheet of paper Kenjiro can only assume has instructions written on it. What a fucking nerd. From the look on Semi’s face when he reads it, Kenjiro imagines he’s thinking the same thing. Then Shigeru and Semi go into the kitchen to talk, and Kenjiro forgets they exist.

He doesn’t understand the show that’s on the television. Is it a rerun? Yes, he thinks most shows that are on in the mornings are reruns. But he’s never seen it before. Was he a fan of the show? Or is he thinking of someone else?

He then sneezes violently, hurting his raspy throat and spewing disgusting gobs of spit on his hand. Ugh. He hates being sick.

There’s a box of tissues on the table next to the couch he reaches for, and a full glass of water. Semi put those there. He keeps clinging to his memories of Semi. He’s only known him a couple of years now, and if he falls too far back in time, he’ll forget him. He absolutely does not want to do that. Going back to the time when they were just platonic roommates would be more bearable, but he thinks that would hurt Semi, too.

Is Shigeru warning him about that? He hopes so. Shigeru’s such an idiot he might forget. It’s not Kenjiro’s fault they’ve known each other for longer than a decade and Shigeru’s been a self-centered bastard the entire time.

Speak of the devil. Shigeru appears at Kenjiro’s side, looking at him like he’s diseased, and holding out some hand sanitizer. “Don’t get the rest of us sick,” Shigeru says.

Kenjiro glares at him, but takes the hand sanitizer. “Should have said that to Futakuchi.”

“Don’t worry, I’m planning on chewing him out later. That jackass. He’s been hiding at Nametsu’s, I think he knows what he’s done.”

Shigeru has bags under his eyes, and he keeps squinting his eyes against the lights in the living room. “You look awful,” Kenjiro kindly informs him. “Go get some sleep.”

“Well excuse me for coming here right after work!” Shigeru says, bristling. He works overnight, because he works for Oikawa, and of course a vampire keeps night hours. Semi must have been pretty convincing when he called him earlier, because Shigeru prefers to spend the few waking hours he has in the morning with his boyfriend.

“My shift doesn’t start until noon,” Semi says. Kenjiro turns to the side, ignoring how that makes his insides feel like they’re sloshing, to look at him. “You can go back to your place until then. Or you can crash here, it’s fine.”

Shigeru rolls his shoulders. Kenjiro can see him calculate how much sleep he’s going to get—probably three hours, if he’s lucky. “I’ll be back before noon,” he decides. “I can ask Sugawara to come back with me. He might be able to make you a potion, or something.”

“Ugh, no,” Kenjiro says, closing his eyes tightly. “His timeline’s too long, it’ll hurt my head.”

“He’s our age?” Shigeru says, baffled.

“Every old person was young once.”

“Alright,” he says, a flash of understanding on his face. “I’ll ask him if he can make you something without looking at you, then.”

Kenjiro groans in response. Shigeru seems to take this as a dismissal, says goodbye to Semi, and sees himself out the door.

Semi gives him something in a little plastic measuring cup—liquid cold medicine. Kenjiro tosses it back and makes a face. Couldn’t manufacturers make it taste less foul? He downs his entire glass of water to get the taste out of his mouth while Semi cleans up his discarded tissues, setting a small bin next to the couch in an unsubtle hint to throw his trash there instead of the floor.

“Is this a rerun?” Kenjiro asks Semi, nodding at the TV.

Semi glances at the screen. “It’s a variety show. They’re new every day.”

“But it’s morning.”

“Yes, it’s a morning variety show.”

Kenjiro furrows his brow as he absorbs this information. He’s glad Semi’s making the effort to be patient with him. He knows normally his questions would sound stupid, and would be frustrating to answer. He pats the couch next to him. “Sit?” Semi does so, and Kenjiro curls up with his head on Semi’s lap.

“How’s your head?” Semi asks.

“Awful,” Kenjiro says. He feels snot drip down the back of his throat. But Semi starts stroking his hair, and it feels so nice he can pretend he forgets about it.

He sees things when he closes his eyes. Just little flashes of events, things that have happened to him, or other people, or will in the future. He doesn’t see any of them long enough to understand any of it, but knows that eventually he’ll start mumbling, reporting on visions he doesn’t even know he’s having. He heard Semi tell Shigeru he was already muttering in his sleep.

He presses his face into Semi’s lap, hiding from the brightness of the day. “Semi?” he says, before he can think it through. “You love me, right?”

“Yes, Shirabu,” Semi says, a smile in his voice. “I love you.”

Kenjiro replays the words in his head, clinging to them, as his breathing evens out, and he drifts off.

-

“You need cat litter,” Kenjiro says, voice thick with mucus. He sneezes.

Shigeru throws a tissue at him. “Kenma would be offended if he came over and found cat litter.”

“Nooo,” Kenjiro whines. He balls up the tissue instead of blowing his nose. “For your cat. You’re out of litter.”

“I don’t have a cat, Kenjiro.”

“The cat,” Kenjiro continues. “I hate that thing. It’s too smart. The name you gave it is dumb.”

“I’m so sorry you hate my cat,” Shigeru says, rolling with it. He’s known Kenjiro so long he must realize Kenjiro means he will have a cat sometime in the future.

“Bullshit, no you’re not,” Kenjiro says, and he sneezes again. “I need a tissue.”

Shigeru throws the entire box at him this time. “Then you shouldn’t have wasted the first one!”

The first one? Kenjiro looks at his hands and finds the balled up tissue. Ah. He forgot. He takes a fresh one from the box and blows his nose as noisily as possible to piss off Shigeru.

Shigeru ignores him valiantly. He’s seated on one of the huge lounge chairs Kenjiro won in the contest he got most of his furniture in. Has he told Semi about that yet? He makes a mental note to. Shigeru has his phone in his hand, texting. Probably telling someone all the dumb things Kenjiro is saying. Or maybe he has a Twitter account, “Shit my seer friend says (when he’s sick or drunk).”

“Chikara says he’s fine with getting a cat,” Shigeru announces. Oh, that makes sense. Of course he’s texting his boyfriend. “But I have a feeling he’s more of a dog person. Do you think he’s a dog person? God, don’t tell Kenma about this cat though.”

“Kenma doesn’t care.” Kenma is probably the most laid-back person Kenjiro has ever met, and he doesn’t even live with Shigeru, anyway. Why should he care if Shigeru gets a cat?

“You’re right. He doesn’t.” Shigeru sighs and flops over, so his torso is dangling off the armrest. “I’m not sure I’m ready for a pet, though.”

“It picked you, dumbass.”

“Oh, that’s so reassuring.”

Kenjiro burrows his head down in his hoodie—Semi’s hoodie, one he stole from him... that morning? A few months ago? He can’t remember. He just knows it was Semi’s, and now it’s his. The lights in the room are dim, because Kenjiro made Shigeru turn them down immediately after he arrived.

“Did Oikawa give you the night off?” he asks Shigeru.

There hadn’t been any discussion about Shigeru’s job since he came to babysit Kenjiro. But, again, he’s known Kenjiro so long that sudden changes of subject don’t faze him. “Mm, yeah,” he says. “I ran into him right outside my apartment as I was leaving—do you have any idea how morifying it is to run into your boss in your own damn apartment building?”

“I’ve never had a boss,” Kenjiro reminds Shigeru. And everyone knows Oikawa is always in Sugawara’s apartment anyway, which is just down the hall from Shigeru’s.

“Yeah, fine, keep on bragging about it,” Shigeru says. There was a period of time when he couldn’t hold down a job for longer than a few months. He’s probably had more bosses in the past five years than most people do in a lifetime. “Anyway, I asked if I could take off, and he said it was fine.”

It’s a good thing his employer doesn’t really care. Apparently he’ll often forget what Shigeru’s schedule is. Kenjiro suspects the former vampire king is a huge idiot.

Kenjiro can’t pretend he doesn’t know why Shigeru requested a night off, though. He did it so he could get a good night’s sleep tonight, and be back tomorrow to watch Kenjiro while Semi’s at work. Kenjiro’s almost impressed Shigeru isn’t demanding he stay in their apartment until Kenjiro’s better. Shigeru always did worry too much about him.

“When are you going to make dinner?” Kenjiro says, then starts coughing.

Shigeru hands him a glass of water. “I already made dinner. You said you weren’t hungry.”

Kenjiro doesn’t remember that. “I lied. I’m starving. Go get my dinner.”

Shigeru rolls his eyes, but he gets up and goes into the kitchen. Kenjiro hates to admit it, but he loves it when Shigeru cooks for him. He doesn’t care for cooking and is lazy with it. Semi always manages to fuck up at least one thing. Shigeru, on the other hand, grew up cooking dinner for himself and his younger sister while his mother worked swing shifts, and grew to enjoy it. Kenjiro is always plotting ways to get some of Shigeru’s cooking. Maybe he should get sick more often.

He sneezes again, and decides that’s a terrible idea. Fuck being sick.

Shigeru sets a tray in front of him, and Kenjiro takes his first bite as the door to his apartment opens. He looks over, annoyed. Shigeru must have left it unlocked. The stranger in the entryway is shockingly handsome. Kenjiro is starting to get very irritated with Shigeru—the last thing he wants is to have an attractive guy see him when he’s sick and disgusting.

Then he feels a pang of guilt, because he finally, _finally_ recognizes that the person who just walked in is Semi, his own goddamn boyfriend. He hopes that isn’t a precursor to forgetting him for a much longer period of time. He doesn’t want to do that to him.

Semi shrugs out of his coat and notices Kenjiro’s staring. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

“I’m—” Kenjiro starts, but then he gets a flash of something, and is overcome with a sharp spike of pain in his head as he is invaded by a vision. This happens sometimes. He’ll see a person, and then it’s like the events of their life rush past him, too quick to register anything concrete, and always unwelcome. Of course, a life must end. It doesn’t matter that he’s old and content when it happens, a world without Semi is nothing but hopeless to Kenjiro, so as soon as his head clears he’s overcome with emotion.

The seat next to him clatters as Shigeru jumps up in alarm. “Kenjiro?” he says. “What happened?”

Kenjiro shakes his head, perhaps too violently. His throat already hurt, but now that he’s on the verge of tears he can barely breathe. Semi comes around the room to his other side. “Shirabu?”

“Semi, I—” He can’t speak. He reaches for Semi, who sits next to him and pulls him into a tight hug, cradling his head against his chest. Kenjiro’s breath is ragged as he tries not to cry.

The rational part of his brain knows this is stupid. He also knows it looks even stupider to Shigeru and Semi, who have no idea what he saw. Everyone dies. That’s just a fact. Even Oikawa, the oldest vampire in Japan and thought to be unkillable, will die one day. Kenjiro will die one day. So will Semi. And his parents, and Shigeru, and everyone he knows and has ever cared about—it’s inevitable. There’s no point in getting upset over it.

He doesn’t stop clinging to Semi. He hears Shigeru say something, then feels the vibrations of Semi’s voice as he says, “That’s fine. Thank you.” Then he hears a door close, and the room quiets.

Semi will hold him for hours with no complaint, but Kenjiro can’t ask that of him. He pushes back, wiping at his eyes and turning away from Semi. While reaching for a box of tissues, he catches sight of the tray of food on the coffee table. He forgot about it. It must be cold by now.

“What was that about?” Semi prompts. He’s still facing Kenjiro, and rests his hand on Kenjiro’s knee.

Kenjiro shakes his head. “Something dumb. It wasn’t worth getting upset over.”

Semi frowns. Kenjiro knows what he’s thinking: he _did_ get upset over it, and therefore it’s worth talking about. But Semi knows from experience to not press just yet. Instead he changes the subject. “You got Yahaba to make dinner?”

“Mm,” Kenjiro nods. “I told him to make enough for you, but he’s such an ass, who knows if he listened to me.”

“I hope he did,” Semi says wistfully. “I’ll check the kitchen. Be right back.”

Semi stands, but before he leaves, he leans down to plant a kiss on the top of Kenjiro’s head. “Don’t do that,” Kenjiro chastises. “I’m disgusting.” Semi laughs, then walks out of the room.

Kenjiro sinks back on the couch and blows his nose. Fuck being sick, he thinks. He hates making Semi worry.

-

After a bath, Kenjiro feels clean and sleepy. He knocks back the cold medicine Semi hands him, then collapses on the bed. “Ugh,” he says.

“Still that bad, huh?”

“I hate this so much,” he says. The steam from his bath cleared up his sinuses, so at least he sounds less stuffy.

Semi doesn’t answer. Kenjiro has the feeling he hates it with equal vigor. It’s just a few days before Christmas, and Kenjiro knows Semi was looking forward to spending it together, even if he never said anything about it. Hell, he might have already made plans. Semi isn’t the type to get mad at him for something he can’t control, but that doesn’t make Kenjiro feel any less guilty.

It’s a lot earlier than Kenjiro usually goes to bed, but he’s too tired to care. He rolls over, still on top of the covers, and watches Semi, fresh out of a quick shower, change into sweatpants and an old shirt. “Enjoying the show?” Semi asks, smirking.

“No, fuck you.”

Semi smiles and shakes his head. He lays down next to Kenjiro, so they’re facing each other. “It wouldn’t have killed you to say yes, you know.”

“It really would have,” Kenjiro replies. He sits up suddenly, which proves to be a mistake from how hard his head pounds. “Semi—you shouldn’t sleep next to me, I don’t want you to get sick too.”

Semi doesn’t move. “I don’t get sick.”

Kenjiro frowns. “Don’t be stubborn. The futon’s still in your old room, right? I know it isn’t ideal, but—”

“Shirabu.” Semi sits up. “I’m being serious. I don’t get sick. I never have.”

“Bullshit,” Kenjiro says.

“It’s a tennin thing,” Semi explains. “I guess it’s because of that supposed divine heritage, or whatever? All I know is that it’s impossible for me to get sick.”

Kenjiro stares at him. “You’re kidding.”

Semi shakes his head. “If I’m being honest, I’m kind of flying by the seat of my pants here. I don’t know what to do to help you. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but thank god for Yahaba.”

“I never would have guessed,” Kenjiro says, frowning at him.

“Yahaba didn’t believe me either, but I convinced him to give me instructions, at least.” Semi grins sheepishly. “And I kind of have alarms in my phone for when you need to take more medicine.”

A laugh bubbles up into Kenjiro’s chest, though it quickly turns into a cough. “You’re ridiculous,” Kenjiro manages to say. Semi hands him a glass of water.

“It’s worth it,” Semi says, smiling softly. Kenjiro sips the water slowly. He still feels like shit, but Semi can always make him feel a little better, no matter what.

-

Shigeru is sitting on the couch, fooling around on his phone, when Kenjiro stumbles out of his room the next morning. “What the hell are you doing here?” Kenjiro demands.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Shigeru replies, unperturbed. “I’m here to babysit you, remember?”

“I hate you so much,” Kenjiro says.

“So I’ve been told,” Shigeru says dryly. “I’ve been here for about an hour. You slept in. It’s past 11:00.”

Kenjiro grumbles, but doesn’t reply. He plops himself down on the couch next to Shigeru. If it’s this late, that means Semi has already left for work. That explains why the bed was cold. But if he slept in this late, that also means he likely kept waking up during the night—which he doesn’t remember at all.

“Did Semi say anything before he left?”

“Not really,” Shigeru says, attention drifting back to his phone. Kenjiro knows him well enough to tell when he’s lying. Whatever Semi told him can’t be good.

-

Kenjiro’s entire body is too hot. He’s almost tempted to go outside in the freezing cold to cool down, but taking the elevator seems like too much of a hassle right now. Maybe he could save time by stuffing himself into the freezer instead.

“Hey—whoa!” Someone says, and Kenjiro feels something grab onto his sleeve. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Kenjiro looks over, brow furrowed. Shigeru’s face snaps into focus. Why does he look so panicked? “I’m cold.” No, wait, that’s not right. “Hot. It’s too hot.”

“So, what, you were going to lay down on the kitchen floor?” Shigeru says incredulously.

“That’s not a bad idea. Tile stays cool. I’ll go do that.”

“Kenjiro!” Shigeru tightens his grip on Kenjiro’s arm. “You have _laminate_ , you moron.”

“Oh.” Kenjiro feels dizzy. He could have sworn his kitchen had tile. When he looks around the room the dizzy feeling gets worse. This isn’t what his living room looks like. Why is it all so wrong?

Thankfully, Shigeru notices Kenjiro’s confusion and takes charge. “Sit,” he orders, pulling Kenjiro to a chair. And not a moment too soon, because Kenjiro doubts his legs would be able to hold him up much longer.

“What happened?” Shigeru asks, kneeling before him.

“I—I don’t know,” Kenjiro says. His fever is getting worse and it must be messing with his visions more severely. Kenjiro feels strangely guilty. “Shigeru, can you get me some ice to chew on?”

Shigeru nods and gets up. When he’s in the kitchen Kenjiro decides to take off his hoodie. If he’s going to break this fever he can’t keep bundling up. He’s straightening his shirt when Shigeru gets back.

He accepts the cup, but is distracted by a thought. “Shigeru, what happened to getting a potion from Sugawara?” he asks. It’s not like he particularly _wants_ to drink more disgusting medicine, but it isn’t like Shigeru to forget stuff like this.

Which he apparently did, judging by the confused look Kenjiro gets in return. “What do you want a potion for?”

“You said you’d see about getting me one,” Kenjiro says impatiently.

“No? I don’t remember that. You told me not to bother last time. You said something about his presence being unbearable, like the polite young man you are.”

“Last time?” Kenjiro prompts. “I mean, that was yesterday—a few days ago? When was—”

He clamps his mouth shut. Shigeru is looking at him with a perfectly expressionless face, meaning he’s realized the same thing at the same time. Kenjiro’s jumping around his timeline again.

“It was last time you got sick,” Shigeru says gently. “It was—what, over a year ago now? Two years? It’s been a while.”

Kenjiro chews on that for a while. “Before I met Semi?” he asks quietly.

A pause. Kenjiro hopes Shigeru isn’t pitying him. “Yeah. Before you guys met.”

Great. Just great. Kenjiro sits back and start grumpily chewing on the melting ice while he tries not to think too much.

-

When Semi comes home, he has a dusting of snow on his coat and in his hair. Kenjiro watches him move around the apartment listlessly. The ice trick didn’t work, and Kenjiro is still burning with fever. That hasn’t stopped him from wanting to go outside. Especially if it’s snowing. Kenjiro would give anything to stop being so hot.

Kenjiro tries to sit up. He manages to prop himself up on his elbows and ask Semi, “How was your day?” Then his arms start to tremble too hard and he lets himself collapse back onto the couch.

“Are you alright?” Semi asks, hovering. He’s done way too much worried hovering these past few days.

Kenjiro groans and covers his eyes with his arm. “Semi, just answer my question.”

“...What question?”

The hell does he mean, what question? Kenjiro is about to tell him he means the question he just asked, but then he pauses. “I didn’t ask a question, did I.”

Semi shifts, and then the couch dips where he sits next to Kenjiro. Semi puts his hand on Kenjiro’s chest, and Kenjiro knows it’s for no other reason than to touch him. “You didn’t.”

Kenjiro doesn’t need to see Semi’s face to know his brows are pinched with concern. God, he can’t stand this anymore! Kenjiro kicks his legs in frustration, muttering angry nonsense. Then, abruptly, he forces himself to stop. He pulls his arm away from his face and looks Semi in the eye. “How was your day?”

“It was pretty normal,” he says casually. Kenjiro huffs. “And, no, before you accuse me of keeping things from you because you’re sick: I’m not. It was perfectly average.”

“You walked home in the snow,” Kenjiro grumbles.

“Yeah, well. That’s pretty normal for winter, isn’t it?”

Semi goes to brush back Kenjiro’s hair, but the sudden cold causes him to flinch. “God, your hands are _freezing_ ,” Kenjiro says. Before Semi can apologize and sit back, Kenjiro grabs both of his hands and hold them to his neck, and lets out a deep, satisfied sigh.

“Am I your personal ice pack now?” Semi asks, amused.

It doesn’t take long for Kenjiro’s fever to warm up Semi’s hands, so Kenjiro is pushing them away sooner than he’d like. “Sadly, no.”

Semi’s grinning at him. “Sometimes you’re just too ridiculous,” he says. Before Kenjiro can defend himself, he adds, “I love you.”

Despite how shitty Kenjiro feels, he can’t help but feel giddy when Semi says that. He covers his face with his hands again, this time out of embarrassment. “Me too,” he mutters, and then Semi laughs and kisses his chin, and Kenjiro can almost pretend he isn’t sick.

-

Kenjiro wakes up in the middle of the night awash with confusion. Something’s off. He squints at the ceiling, slowly taking stock of the room, trying to figure out what.

He’s hot—incredibly hot—and paws at the covers until he manages to push them down to his knees. He’s sweat through his shirt. Disgusting. He glances around the bedroom, trying to judge if it’s worth the trip to get a fresh shirt, but he doesn’t understand why the furniture doesn’t look like his. Before he can continue processing this he’s overcome with a coughing fit that rips at his throat. Ah, that’s right, he thinks as he tries to muffle the sound. He’s sick.

He can’t quiet his coughing soon enough and, unfortunately, Eita stirs. Eita rolls over to face him, still half asleep, and asks, “Ev’rything alright...?”

“Yeah,” Kenjiro croaks. He clears his throat. He didn’t expect his voice to be that hoarse. “Go back to sleep.”

That’s the wrong thing to say, which Kenjiro really should know by now. Eita hums and studies Kenjiro more closely. His eyes are starting to look more alert. “What do you need?”

“Nothing,” Kenjiro says automatically. He sighs and buries his face in his pillow. Eita is never going to believe that, so he might as well let him do something for him. “Can you get me a new shirt?”

Eita doesn’t even ask why. He simply gets out of bed and pads over to the dresser. “You know,” he says as he’s rummaging around through Kenjiro’s clothes, “you _can_ wake me up if you need anything. I don’t mind, Shirabu.”

Kenjiro sits up and squints in confusion. “What did you just call me?”

Eita looks over his shoulder, brows furrowed. “Your name...?”

“You haven’t called me by my surname in years,” Kenjiro says.

Eita turns to face him, shirt in hand, bewildered. “What are you talking about?” he says. “I’ve always called you Shirabu?”

Everything clicks into place for Kenjiro—why Eita isn’t using his given name, why the furniture looks wrong, and why Eita looks younger, now that he’s focusing. He laughs, which doesn’t feel good on his throat. “Sorry, sorry,” Kenjiro says when Eita steps closer in alarm. “I see what’s happening. I didn’t mean to startle you, don’t worry about it.”

But that isn’t good enough for Eita, which Kenjiro really should have seen coming. He climbs back into bed and hands Kenjiro the shirt. “What do you mean, what’s happening?”

Kenjiro stalls for time by stripping off his sweat-soaked shirt and changing into the fresh one. Will Eita understand at this point in time? Would it just confuse him too much? Kenjiro decides to just go for it. Eita’s always been strong, and he needs to learn eventually.

“So, I’m sick, right?” Kenjiro starts.

Eita looks at him like he’s losing his marbles. “Yes.”

“And being sick makes my seer powers go haywire, right?”

“Yeah...?”

Good, so he already knows that much. “Have you ever woken up for a dream but still thought you were in the dream for a few more seconds? It’s like that. I get a vision, and I think it’s the present instead of the future.”

Eita doesn’t answer right away, which is good because Kenjiro is overcome with a sudden coughing fit. “So what you’re saying,” Eita starts once he’s done, “is that you had a vision of the future—a vision of _us_ —where you don’t try to murder me for using your given name?”

“I like the way you say my name, Eita,” Kenjiro says softly.

And that— _that_ he knows is the perfect thing to say. Eita ducks his head in embarrassment, but he can’t hide his bright smile. “Okay,” he says. “I’d be happy to call you Kenjiro.”

Kenjiro touches Eita’s face. “Good,” he whispers. Eita being Eita, he knows exactly what Kenjiro wants next, and leans in to give him a sweet, gentle kiss.

When they’re finally tucked back into bed, the blanket Kenjiro shoved away earlier now laying in a heap on the ground, Eita asks him a question. “You’re going to remember this in the morning, right?”

“I usually do,” Kenjiro answers. “Maybe not as vividly. But I’m not in the business of forgetting things.”

-

Kenjiro’s misery has not ended, not even after another night’s sleep. When Shigeru comes into their apartment, he’s sprawled across the couch, arms crossed, glaring at the ceiling.

“You can’t keep babysitting me,” Kenjiro says with bitterness. “I get that Oikawa doesn’t give half a shit about when you work, but you’re still losing out on earning money.”

“Chikara has a job,” Shigeru reminds him.

“So? Can he afford rent on his own?”

He can sense Shigeru frowning at him, but he doesn’t care. He’s at his wits’ end. If he can’t get over this cold soon, he might explode.

“Worry about yourself first,” Shigeru says. Plastic rustles, and Kenjiro glances over at him for the first time to see he’s holding a couple grocery bags. “I’m going to put this away, you ungrateful cretin, so try not to die in the meantime!”

Shigeru stalks off into the kitchen. Well, Kenjiro can’t exactly complain about that. The prospect of Shigeru’s cooking almost puts him in a good mood.

Semi, who has watched this exchange from across the room, can’t help but grin. “He cares about you, Kenjiro,” he says, and Kenjiro’s face heats up. Last night Semi was calling him Shirabu, like normal, but he’s suddenly switched to Kenjiro for reasons he refuses to disclose. It only adds to Kenjiro’s frustration.

“You’re acting like you don’t think I said that for the same reason,” he grumbles.

Semi laughs. “Fair enough.” He stands. “Well, since Yahaba is here I guess I should head off to work.” Instead of going to the foyer to get his coat, he kneels next to the couch and leans over Kenjiro. “Give me a kiss goodbye?”

He supposes he can do that. Kenjiro wraps his arms around Semi’s neck, pulling him closer, and plants a kiss on his cheek. But he doesn’t let go. He tightens his grip until Semi is practically laying on top of him.

“Kenjiro—” Semi starts.

“Don’t,” Kenjiro says. Don’t call him by his given name, don’t leave—Kenjiro isn’t entirely sure what he means.

Semi lets out a long breath. He snakes his arms around Kenjiro’s torso and pulls him up until he’s in a sitting position. Kenjiro consents to this, if it means Semi will hold him. “Just one more day, alright?” Semi murmurs, his lips pressed to Kenjiro’s ear. “After today’s shift I’m off ‘til after Christmas. Then you don’t have to worry about Yahaba. Okay?”

A lump forms in Kenjiro’s throat. “Okay,” he whispers. Reluctantly, he lets Semi go.

He watches Semi bundle against the cold and the lingering snow. Before he leaves, Semi gives Kenjiro a reassuring smile. And then Kenjiro is alone, except for Shigeru banging around in the kitchen. Pressure starts to build in the back of his head.

When Shigeru finally reemerges, Kenjiro is back to glaring at the ceiling. “All set,” Shigeru says, mostly to himself. To Kenjiro, he adds, “I raided Chikara’s film collection and grabbed the least pretentious ones. If you’re done being a dick, we can check ‘em out.”

Kenjiro lifts his chin in defiance. “Am I ever not a dick?”

Shigeru snorts. “You’re right, how could I make such a terrible mistake?”

“I’m not picking,” Kenjiro announces when Shigeru starts holding out the DVDs to him. “I don’t give a shit. You do it.”

Shigeru scoffs and rolls his eyes, but Kenjiro doesn’t care. He smacks his pillow and rolls onto his side, hoping to get comfortable and soothe the pounding in his head.

-

Kenjiro’s vision is blurry when he opens his eyes. He’s still on the couch, and he stares at the mess on the coffee table in confusion. Snacks and used plates, cough drop wrappers, a sweating glass of ice water—and a DVD start screen looping on the TV. He must have fallen asleep during a movie.

He sits up with some effort. Black spots dance in his eyes when he does, but he manages to blink them away. For some reason his throat isn’t just sore, but raw. Was he snoring or something?

“Shigeru?” Kenjiro calls, his voice cracking. Ugh, it hurts so bad. “Get me tea? Uh, please?”

He expects Shigeru to poke his head out of the kitchen or to yell from the bathroom or something, but instead he’s greeted with a few seconds of perfect silence. When Shigeru does finally make an appearance, he rushes out of Semi’s old room. Kenjiro’s brow furrows. Why would Shigeru be in there?

“Tea?” Shigeru repeats, as if Kenjiro just asked him to do the impossible.

“Er, yes?”

“And that’s all you want? Tea?” Shigeru looks a little crazed, and Kenjiro is starting to worry he’s losing it. “You’re not gonna—do that thing again?”

“What thing?” Kenjiro asks, bewildered.

Instead of answering, Shigeru says, “Right! Tea it is!” and practically runs into the kitchen.

Kenjiro blinks. Was his snoring that offensive? What a goddamn hypocrite. Kenjiro’s suffered through Shigeru’s snoring enough times to know he has no leg to stand on.

It takes Shigeru longer than Kenjiro thinks it should to make tea, and he brings it out to Kenjiro tentatively, like he thinks Kenjiro is going to bite him. Kenjiro ignores how weird his best friend is acting and takes a sip. The tea is wonderfully hot, but too sweet. He makes a face. Curse Shigeru’s sweet tooth. He always uses too much honey.

Shigeru is still watching him anxiously. “What’s with you?” Kenjiro demands. “Do you want me to thank you, or something?”

Shigeru cocks his head to the side. “No,” he says. “Are you feeling... normal?”

“No? I’m sick as a dog? The fuck kind of question is that, honestly.”

“Oh, thank god,” Shigeru says, and he collapses on a chair with relief.

Kenjiro waits, sipping his tea, for Shigeru to explain just what he’s going on about. After a beat Kenjiro’s impatience gets the better of him and asks, “Why are you acting so weird?”

“I’m not!” Shigeru defends automatically. He sighs. “You were... freaking out.”

“Freaking out?”

“Yes. Maybe? I’m not sure I’d call it that. It was—it was bad.”

Kenjiro’s heart drops into his stomach. “I was having a vision in my sleep?”

“In your sleep?” Shigeru repeats, incredulous. “No, Kenjiro, you were awake. And I don’t think it was a vision. You really don’t remember?”

Kenjiro’s hands start to shake so severely he’s forced to set down his tea. “Shigeru. Tell me what happened.”

Before Shigeru can start, the apartment door bursts open. Semi stumbles inside, panting heavily, his face flushed red. Kenjiro is beyond confused. He lost a couple hours of his day, sure, but he knows Semi’s shift isn’t supposed to end this early. What’s he doing home?

“Kenjiro,” Semi says, and he rounds the living room as if in a trance until he’s standing in front of him. The intensity of his gaze alarms Kenjiro. He hasn’t even taken off his coat. Semi brushes back Kenjiro’s bangs, checking for fever, then drops to sit on the coffee table, directly across from Kenjiro. “How do you feel?” he asks, taking Kenjiro’s hands into his own. “What’s wrong?”

“I have no idea,” Kenjiro says, panic edging into his voice. “Why are you here?”

“You wanted me to come home,” Semi says.

“What? No I didn’t. I wouldn’t. Not when you’re at work.”

Semi’s grip on his hands tightens. He glances over at Shigeru in confusion. “You did. I heard you.”

“Semi,” Kenjiro starts. “I have no idea what’s going on. Someone needs to tell me, right now.”

They both start speaking at the same time.

“Yahaba called me a dozen times until I could sneak away to pick up—”

“You were _inconsolable_ , Kenjiro,” Shigeru interjects. “You keep telling me I was the wrong person and to go away—”

“I didn’t really understand what was going on but Yahaba insisted I had to come back—”

“You _had_ to, he wanted you—”

“Okay, okay, stop,” Kenjiro says. He feels the beginnings of a headache. “One at a time. Please.”

They exchange a look. “You first,” Semi says. “You were here when it started.”

Shigeru takes a breath. “You did fall asleep in the middle of a movie,” he starts. “Which wasn't that weird. You were acting fine until then. I mean you’re obviously not fine because you’re still sick, but—”

“Shigeru,” Kenjiro interrupts. This isn’t helping.

“Right. Okay. Well, when you woke up, you wanted to know where Semi was,” Shigeru continues, gesturing to him. “I told you he was at work, but you didn’t... like that. You kept demanding to see him, and it got, um, pretty ugly.” Kenjiro stares at his hands, still linked with Semi’s, and focuses on his breathing. “You were screaming. I had no choice but to call him.”

“I could hear you,” Semi adds, his voice quiet. “It wasn’t like you, at all. It was—terrifying.” He squeezes Kenjiro’s hands. “I had to come home. I had to. I couldn’t leave you in distress like that—and Yahaba was panicking—I had to make sure you’d be okay.”

Kenjiro swallows. “I’m fine now. You can go back to work.”

There’s an audible pause before Semi answers. “I’m staying.”

Kenjiro’s eyes snap to his face. “No. No, Semi, you really don’t have to. I-I’m sorry I scared you—both of you—but I’m okay now. I think. You don’t have to worry.”

“I can’t go back,” he says, and then his masks slips and he looks at vulnerable as Kenjiro feels. “My manager didn’t want to let me go, and in order to convince her—I had to charm her. I can’t face her right now.”

Semi hangs his head. Charm? What does he mean? And then it hits him: Semi used his powerful tennin charm purposefully, all so he could get home to make sure Kenjiro was okay. Kenjiro can scarcely breathe. That was something Semi vowed he would never do.

Slowly, he extracts his hands from Semi’s grip. Then he takes him by the shoulders, and pulls him in until Semi has his face burrowed in the crook of Kenjiro’s neck. Kenjiro imagines his fever can’t make that comfortable, but, just for now, he can focus on taking care of Semi.

After a moment, Semi pulls back. “Sorry,” he whispers, though Kenjiro isn’t sure if it’s directed to him or Shigeru. Then, louder, he says, “I’m going to get changed.” He stands, and Kenjiro lets him go.

Shigeru is looking at him with a funny expression on his face. He doesn’t speak until after Semi puts away his coat and disappears into his old bedroom, where he still stores most of his clothes. “You really are different,” Shigeru says.

“What do you mean?” Kenjiro asks, heart pounding, sure he’s talking about how Kenjiro is losing control of his powers.

“I’ve never seen you that gentle with another person before,” Shigeru says. “Much less that concerned for someone. You seriously looked like you were going to cry when he said he charmed his manager.” Shigeru shakes his head, a sad smile on his face. “I almost felt like you’d forgotten I was here.”

“Uh,” Kenjiro says, unsure how to respond. “Sorry?”

Shigeru waves him off. “Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Semi when he first moved in, but now I’m glad he’s here for you.”

Kenjiro is sure his face is going red. “Me too,” he mumbles.

Shigeru stands. “I’ll make dinner for you guys before I go.” Then he kisses the top of Kenjiro’s head, which feels like a relic of a past era. He walks into the kitchen, leaving Kenjiro alone.

-

Kenjiro stands in the doorway, arms crossed, frowning at his bed. “Are you going to sleep standing up?” Semi asks from behind him. His tone is light, teasing, but he’s trying too hard to seem cheerful. He has been all evening.

Kenjiro doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look at him. He knows he’s being unfair, but he can’t help it.

Semi shimmies around him, into the bedroom, and holds out a hand. “Come on,” he says. He expects Kenjiro to take his hand, and—then what? Lead him to bed and tuck him in? Read him a bedtime story? Kenjiro is so tired of having other people take care of him.

He exhales. There’s no reason to take that frustration out on Semi. He has nothing to do with it.

Kenjiro slumps against the doorframe. “I can’t keep losing it like I did today,” he grumbles.

“That wasn’t your fault,” Semi says. “Every magical person has problems when they get sick.”

“It’s not just when I get sick,” Kenjiro says, frowning at the floor. “It’s all the time. I never have control over my visions. This was _entirely_ my fault.”

Semi shifts uncomfortably. “You don’t know that,” he says softly.

“I’m in the perfect position to know that,” Kenjiro reminds him. “I just—I can’t keep doing this. I have to do better. I need to learn how to control it.”

There’s a long pause while Semi studies him. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, “about something that might help you get better faster.”

“If it’s more disgusting cold medicine, forget it.”

“No,” Semi says, smiling. “It’s nothing like that. Hear me out?”

Kenjiro sighs. He pushes himself off the doorframe. “Alright.”

This time he lets Semi take his hand and take him into the bedroom. “My logic is,” Semi says, sitting Kenjiro down on the bed. “I can’t get sick. And, supposedly, tennin had—or have, maybe—the ability to purify things. Water, food, stuff like that.”

Kenjiro stares at him. “So you’re going to try to purify me like some sort of iodine tablet.”

“No! Don’t be weird.” Semi frowns, but that doesn’t last long. He can’t seem to stand still. He’s nervous, Kenjiro guesses. “I was thinking, since most of my power is in my hagoromo—”

“Absolutely not,” Kenjiro says. His heart pounds in his ears. “No. Not happening.”

A tennin’s hagoromo—the robe that allows them to transform and fly—can control them, if stolen. If destroyed, it could kill them. Kenjiro has never seen Semi’s, not once in the nearly two years they’ve lived together, and he understands why Semi keeps it locked in a safe in his old room.

“You said you would hear me out,” Semi says.

“I didn’t think your idea would be insane!”

“You haven’t heard it yet.”

Kenjiro groans and puts his face in his hands. “Fine. I’ll listen, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to happen.”

“You could wear it,” Semi says, which _is_ insane. “While we sleep. Maybe it’d help you get over this cold.”

“I can’t do that!” Kenjiro says. “What if it doesn’t work and I—get obsessed with it—you can’t risk it, Semi, you just can’t!”

“Kenjiro.” Semi cups his face. “Let me trust you. Please.”

His heart clenches. Semi looks so earnest, so open—and Kenjiro knows him well enough to know he wouldn’t suggest this if he weren’t absolutely sure. What a stupid, beautiful person Kenjiro’s fallen in love with. “...Okay,” Kenjiro whispers.

Semi smiles. He plants a kiss on the tip of Kenjiro’s nose, and leaves the room.

Alone, Kenjiro grips the edge of the bed and thinks about what he’s gotten himself into. Some days he can’t trust himself to walk to the bus stop without being overcome with visions, so how can he trust himself with something so precious? How would Semi feel if it doesn’t work? Would it ruin their relationship?

Was this what Semi was thinking about when he was in his old room earlier? He was in there way longer than changing clothes should take. Kenjiro assumed he needed some time alone after charming his manager, then rushing home to an emergency that had already ended. He supposes it would be the perfect time to contemplate the nature of being a tennin. If only Semi had decided on a different course of action.

He hears the safe click closed down the hall, and Semi returns with neatly folded fabric in his arms. His hagoromo. Semi stops in front of him, looking more nervous than Kenjiro has ever seen him be. “Well,” he says at last. “Here it is.”

“I thought it’d be feathered,” Kenjiro says before he can stop himself. Semi’s hagoromo looks... ordinary. Well, no, that isn’t exactly right. It’s obviously a very fine garment, made out of silk and threaded with gold. But it looks like something a non-magical person could make. The few stories Kenjiro heard about tennin emphasized their magical, feathered robes.

“Maybe they used to in the past,” Semi says, “but mine’s always looked like this. Well, not exactly the same. It changes as I get older. You know, it grows with me and all.”

He gusses that makes sense. It isn’t an ordinary robe, after all. “Can I see?” Kenjiro asks, curiosity getting the better of himself.

Semi sits next to him on the bed, and spreads his hagoromo across his knees. “It’s sort of... the story of my life,” Semi says, embarrassed. “It’s not really linear or anything. I’m not sure why it’s the way it is, actually.”

He shrugs. Kenjiro leans in to look while Semi runs his hands over his hagoromo, shuffling the fabric around to reveal different scenes. Kenjiro doesn’t get most of it. He figures the little swan figure represents Semi, considering he supposedly turns into a swan when wearing his hagoromo. Other than that, he’s clueless.

Semi stops over one particular scene. “This is when I met you,” he says.

At first, Kenjiro doesn’t understand. It’s pretty, but it’s just the swan sitting at the base of a mountain, its peak shrouded by clouds. What about it represents him? He tries to think more abstractly. If Semi is the swan, then he has to be the mountain. This mountain is immovable, too large to fully comprehend, and hidden by clouds—Kenjiro isn’t exactly sure what that says about him, but he doesn’t like it.

He can ruminate on this later. Right now, he feels Semi watching for his reaction, and knows just how hard this must have been for him to share. Kenjiro leans on his shoulder, but that doesn’t feel like enough. He wraps one arm around Semi’s, and reaches out with the other to touch the swan at the base of the mountain. The hagoromo even feels like silk.

Semi is smiling, so Kenjiro must have done something right. He gathers the fabric of his hagoromo and stands, pulling Kenjiro up with him. “Arms out,” he orders.

Kenjiro hesitates. “Are you sure?” he asks for the last time.

“I’ve never been more sure,” Semi answers. Kenjiro gives in, and lets Semi put the robe on him.

At first, it feels like he’s wearing any old robe. But after a moment, he notices something. It’s subtle, and if he hadn’t been looking for it he would have missed it. It’s something warm, something soft, something that responds to him and almost embraces him. He has to catch his breath.

“Are you okay?” Semi says, brushing back Kenjiro’s bangs. And that’s when Kenjiro realizes what it is—it’s the gentle strength of Semi’s love for him.

Unexpected tears spring to his eyes. Semi pulls back in alarm, but no, that won’t do. Kenjiro holds out his arms, and, as soon as he understands what Kenjiro wants, Semi pulls him into a hug. Kenjiro hides his face in the collar of Semi’s shirt.

“What happened the other day—” he says, trembling. “When you came home, and I freaked out—I had a vision.”

Semi graciously doesn’t say that much was obvious. “What was it about?” he asks, his voice a whisper in Kenjiro’s hair.

“You,” Kenjiro says, “it was you, and—” He almost can’t bring himself to say it, but he forces the words out. “It was you—your death—”

He cuts himself off with a sob. Semi is too shocked to try to comfort him. “My death?” he says.

“You were old,” Kenjiro rushes to add. “Old and happy, you won’t die for a long time—but—”

He clings to his boyfriend, and this time Semi turns his attention to him. “...Were you there?”

Kenjiro hadn’t seen himself in this vision. It passed by too quickly. But he instinctively knows the answer to Semi’s question, and nods.

Semi lets out a deep breath. “Good,” he says. Kenjiro’s heart aches.

Semi’s sacrificed so much for him over these past few days. He’s spent hours caring for Kenjiro and worrying about him. He swallowed his pride and asked for help from Shigeru, who he doesn’t get along with well. He even used his powers for Kenjiro—for possibly the first time in his entire life—and is not only refusing to show how much it bothers him, but he’s offering Kenjiro the one thing that could destroy him. And after all that, after all the stress he’s endured, he’s happy to hear that Kenjiro will be there at the end of his life.

“I love you,” Kenjiro tells Semi between sobs, because it’s the least he can do. “I love you, okay? I love you.”

In response, Semi holds him tighter, letting him cry himself out, all while Semi’s hagoromo feels like it’s saying _I know._

-

Their bedroom is bright when Kenjiro wakes up. He curses whichever idiot passed up getting blackout curtains, while pretending that idiot isn’t him. He rolls on his side, pouting into the sheets. Semi isn’t in bed, which isn’t all that unusual, but—

Kenjiro sits up in a panic. He holds out his arms, and holy _shit_ he’s still wearing Semi’s hagoromo. He almost managed to forget about it.

Returning the hagoromo gives him the motivation to get out of bed. He folds it as neatly as he can, grumbling insults at Semi all the while. He’s about to stomp out of their bedroom and demand Semi put it back in the safe or else, but he stops halfway to the door. His head doesn’t hurt.

He takes stock of the rest of his body. His throat feels fine, his sinuses are clear and breathing is easy, and he isn’t feverish. He stares at the silken robe in his hands. Semi’s stupid idea actually worked.

When Kenjiro opens the bedroom door, the smell of cooking almost overwhelms him. Underneath it is the scent of something burnt, which is how he knows it’s Semi in the kitchen, not Shigeru.

Not that Shigeru is supposed to be over today. He has that right, he thinks. Semi has time off starting on Christmas Eve. Time off he took for the dates Kenjiro is pretending he doesn’t know about.

Kenjiro almost feels like a new person as he walks through the apartment. He’s forgotten what it’s like to not have a cold. When he gets to the kitchen, he’s content to watch Semi mutter over his cooking for a bit. When Semi notices him, his face lights up.

“How do you feel?” Semi asks.

“Good,” Kenjiro replies. “A lot better.”

Semi smiles at him, then notices the hagoromo in Kenjiro’s hands. “You didn’t have to fold it,” he says, stepping closer.

“I did, actually,” Kenjiro mumbles.

He expects Semi to scoop him up into a hug, or kiss his hand, or—something, anything, really. Instead Semi takes the hagoromo from him. “Make sure nothing burns?” Semi requests, then he’s off in the direction of his old room.

Kenjiro can’t help but be surprised. Semi trusted him with his hagoromo overnight, and even left him alone with it when he got up. But he’s just _now_ concerned with locking it up again? He decides to shrug it off. Overcoming years of paranoia can’t be easy.

Semi emerges just moments later. “Thanks,” he says, and _finally_ Kenjiro gets the affection he was looking for when Semi kisses his cheek. Kenjiro wants more, but he stops short when he notices Semi looking sheepish.

“What?” Kenjiro asks, annoyed. “What’s with that face?”

“I, uh, have a confession to make,” Semi says. He’s suspiciously jittery.

“...Okay?”

“I lied,” Semi says, and Kenjiro blinks in alarm. “About my hagoromo, I mean. Okay, well, that sounds worse than it is, pretty much everything I told you is true, but—”

“Semi,” Kenjiro interrupts. “Just tell me.”

Semi lets out a breath. “It was never going to help you get better,” he admits. “It’s magic doesn’t work on anyone but me.”

Kenjiro stares at him incredulously. “You thought my cold was psychosomatic?”

“No, no, not at all,” Semi says. He withers under Kenjiro’s gaze. “Okay, maybe a bit. I figured it wouldn’t hurt. But I didn’t think you’d be perfectly fine today, just that you’d be a little less miserable.”

Kenjiro rubs his temple. He takes a moment to answer, just to make Semi sweat a little. “I should be mad at you,” he says at last. “You tricked me. Nobody ever tricks me. But—” He looks up at Semi. “You did a lot for me, so, thank you.”

“You really aren’t mad?” Semi asks, his relief palpable.

“I might be,” Kenjiro says, “if you don’t come over here and kiss me.”

The lopsided smile that spreads across Semi’s face is annoyingly endearing. He gathers Kenjiro in his arms and kisses him deeply, a kiss he wouldn’t have dared to give him when he was sick. Kenjiro pulls on Semi’s shirt, demanding more attention and more kisses, and then— he’s distracted by the distinctive sound of something catching on fire.

“Oh _shit_ ,” Semi says. Whatever he was cooking in one of the pans is now turning to ash in a very impressive blaze. He leaps into action, turning off the stove and smothering the fire with a lid. Kenjiro opens the little window in the kitchen to let out the smoke. The last thing he wants to do is set the fire alarm off and have the building evacuated.

Thankfully Semi managed to get the fire out, though now he looks thoroughly dejected. Kenjiro stands next to him, casually draping his arm around Semi’s waist. “It smells wonderful,” he says.

“Thanks, Kenjiro. Really.”

“I don’t know why you decided to cook breakfast anyway,” Kenjiro continues. “I don’t recall it ever ending well.”

“I just wanted to do something nice for you,” Semi mumbles. Kenjiro studies his face. He’s frowning in that way he does when he feels like he’s failed at something.

But he hasn’t. Everyone knows Semi is a disaster in the kitchen. He’s too easily distracted, and Kenjiro wasn’t helping by demanding a kiss.

“You’ve done plenty for me,” Kenjiro says, resting his head on Semi’s shoulder. “I think breakfast can be saved, though. Why don’t we finish it together?”

“Do you really want to?” Semi asks.

“Of course,” Kenjiro replies. “You can tell me what we’re doing on our date while we cook.”

Semi sighs. “I should have known better than try to keep it a secret. You always find out everything.”

“Oh, I don’t know _everything_ ,” Kenjiro says in a tone of voice that indicates he’s talking about the kitchen fire. “Sometimes I even like to be surprised.”

Semi grins. “In that case, I’m gonna keep it a secret. In exchange I won’t go anywhere near the stove for the rest of the day. Deal?”

“Deal,” Kenjiro says, and they seal it with a kiss.


End file.
